Harlequinade
by Xshoutatmex
Summary: There was a time when Harlequins and Pantaloons roamed the city with great pride, they’d brag about their wonderfully adorned clothes, purposely jiggling their golden ornaments and showcasing their unique acrobatic skills.But as what was said- was, not is
1. Prologue

**Prologue 00**

It was dark down in the basement- no one knows exactly what happens down there, but they all say that it's a dangerous place to be when you're alone. Of course rumors never really were true to begin with, or perhaps it was derived from the constant sobbing and howling of a little boy- or girl? Not many people can tell, but as far as anyone else is concerned- the crying had ceased since the week before.

No one knows why, no one knows who it is, and no one knows whether that person (or thing?) was still alive or not.

But now and then, as some brave men walk down the stairs into the empty space bellow; pictures and posters of a white faced boy would present itself haphazardly glued on walls, some on the floor- flyers, sketches and beautifully adorned parchment paper. All with his or her face- as said earlier, they really couldn't tell.

The being was beautiful, and all the same broken.

If only they knew, maybe just maybe he (or she?) would have been salvaged.

If only they knew.

"Shh…you're going to be alright." She stroked his hair, caressing his face with her other hand. She was doing her best to shut him up, to stop him from crying- telling him things were going to be fine, even if her lie was as obvious as the truth. "You're going to be fine, so be still, be silent. I'm here, I always will be- hush" She cooed into his ear like a melody made to entrance, and somehow he wanted to believe her, but as far as he was concerned

He was dying- and Demyx just wishes she knew.

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A/N: Nothing to A/N about, but since everyone does it, what the hey!


	2. postchapter o1

**Harlequinade o1: post-chapter o1**

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There was a time when Harlequins and Pantaloons roamed the city with great pride, they'd brag about their wonderfully adorned clothes, purposely jiggling their golden ornaments and showcasing their unique acrobatic skills. Everyone would laugh, stop and point at them like they're the most beautiful creatures in the world.

As if their make-up made them look like ethereal beings ready to entice little children to do their bidding.

But that was- as what was said…was and not is.

Demyx wondered at how fast things began to turn- oh how much he wanted to be an entertainer when he was a child! Tinkering with his instrument, doing flips and dances all across town

And people! By God they loved him! They loved him so much that raining money wouldn't be much of a surprise to him- but it was all for good fun and never for the gold. He'd leave the generous pay on his way out, bowing his head gingerly while throwing roses out into his audience. The joy it brought; he'd always leave the people in tears of laughter.

But again- was, not is.

His reputation for being the "best entertainer" was heard by the local circus of Roshmell Hausen. Indeed the Ringmaster wanted him aboard his crew, and so history begins and ends with how happy and cheerful the little boy once had been.

Demyx was required to wear make-up on Saturday nights; he was supposed to be the Harlequin (the witty ever fooling fool that runs around, dancing, cartwheeling, and doing purpose spin-ups). Whatever stunt needed to be pulled to make the audience laugh he'd try and do- and do he does, so well in fact.

Late nights, with his colorful costume and golden accessories, he'd walk out into the town fair, meeting kids and serenading them with his blue sitar. The little boys and girls would usually- if not always, follow him wherever he went, clapping and singing and dancing (it was the piper reincarnated, if only he piped and not strummed).

But yes dear reader, you must be tired from hearing the same set of words being repeated (but it cannot be helped.) Again, I must say, it was and not is.

The once prestigious plays showcasing talent had began to dwindle down in popularity, as families and children all suddenly knew exactly when to laugh, when to cry- until all for certain, new tricks and old tricks could not get anyone to make any sort of expression at all. The audience had been turned to stone- expressionless, emotionless. And how much that hurt! Because what more can an entertainer dream of most but to make his or her audience relish in merriment or despair.

The circus was failing, the Harlequinade was dying- Demyx was…well is, already in a state of no return.

One by one, Demyx would watch his seniors leave, tired eyes and pity-filled smiles gracing their lips- telling Demyx maybe, one day little one, you'd do the same as we're doing right now; then you'd understand.

Even Laughing George! Demyx's circus uncle had decided to walk off from the spotlight to pursue his not-so-endearing dream of becoming a well-known carpenter (a flame eater turned carpenter- who would trust him with flammable objects?). Yet still as he watched his comrades leave, Demyx would just sit by his mentor (the Ringmaster) and cry with him, if not comfort him.

Thirty to twenty-nine

Twenty-nine to twenty-one

Twenty-one to fifteen

Fifteen

Ten

Six

Five

And then there were five- from thirty to five, the Ringmaster included and so is Demyx, they were dying in number- and the more they died in number, the more their tricks slowed and faltered.

The Circus that was, could now be known as the Circus that never was.

No more cotton candy and popcorn smelling fingers.

No more flyers, no more parades, no more plays

No more color, no more gold- no more tricks

No more Laughing George, no more elephants- no more laughter

No more children or serenading songs

No more people.

But Demyx, yes Demyx was still there. Upto the very last he stayed, his age of seven now into fifteen, and very much he seemed depressed. His family had gone.

"Son, we have to go." Soft hands gripped affectionately on his left shoulder, sad tears now flowing from his Ringmaster's eyes. And right then Demyx knew that yes, they had to go, go to a new town, start a new. Hire people, hire a family (how could you even hire a family?) and hire a new Laughing George.

Cressilda, Nigel, Luigi, Demyx and the Ringmaster- they formed the original entertainment people used to love. Now they were leaving, still all together.

Until.

"Mr. Norrington, would you not even consider this offer I am trying to persuade you into?" Demyx stopped on his tracks, feet glued onto the ground just outside his mentor's tent. He listened and hauled the box he was carrying into a more stable position.

"No, no, no. But thank you. I understand that you are trying to save this place but…Well it just wouldn't do." Footsteps resounded into the night, as the lamp danced and mocked Demyx of a possibility in being saved. He bit his tongue to prevent himself from barging in.

"But the entertainment-" The unknown man had stopped himself from moving around and talking, then again "Aren't you an entertainer Mr. Norrington? Would you not weep for joy if once again, we can bring smiles to those young faces? Think about it, only for a small sum of money- your choice Mr. Norrington." A heavy sigh escaped the other man's lips, quick enough to grasp himself before giving into the bid.

Demyx stepped a few feet back, scuffling his scrawny self to carry the box over with his body- and he watched as his Savior (his new nickname for the nameless man) leave the tent with a magician's hat dangling from those old, but slender fingers. Demyx's hope was returning, and for the first time in ages he smiled a genuine smile.

Quickly forgetting about the horrendous idea of moving the circus into a new town, Demyx dropped the box filled with banners and streamers, quickly rushing to meet the Ringmaster in the tent with relief stricken tears.

Only to find out that they had different ideas about the situation.

"Why won't you accept it master?" The young boy questioned his elder with rebellion in his voice.

"Because my child, we would sell everything. The circus would not be ours to control-"

"But it would save us all! Don't you see master? Who would want a cruddy looking place like this-" The Ringmaster cringed at the hurtful words thrown at him. "For just ten pieces of silver…please master, this could save us. We could start a new, we won't have to move, we'd be here- with Laughing George! And everyone else!" Demyx smiled his foolish grin, and how could anyone refuse his smiling face?

Mr. Norrington sat on the wooden chair next to the cluttered table and sighed in tired anxiety.

"I'll leave." The ringmaster's head snapped up to meet cold blue orbs. "If you all leave this town, I'll leave this circus behind too. No more playing, no more dancing- I'm going to leave." His threat sank deep into the man's heart, tears now falling from his master's face.

"But Demyx, we're family-"

"And this is our home! I won't leave it!" Mr. Norrington rushed to hug the boy but Demyx evaded the affectionate gesture. There was no stopping his firm resolve from staying in Roshmell, he was born here, raised here- and in this town his dream had risen and fallen. He will stay, no matter what the cost.

And to cut their story short. Stayed they did. The father in the Ringmaster's heart had won. He could not bear to see another one of his children go- and so ten pieces of silver was given, a notorious smile placing itself on the nameless man's features.

That's when Demyx had thought, maybe, if he followed- maybe if he just allowed it. This wouldn't have happened. His master would still be alive, Cressilda would've still been his acting mother, Nigel would still have been the perfect brother and Luigi the best friend anyone could ever have.

But now the rules of the game were different.

"Step right up folks! Two pieces of copper if you hit his face! Five pieces for an eye! And a silver piece winner, to whoever makes the boy yell in pain the loudest!" The crowd cheered and jeered at him, mocking Demyx for all his right. He wanted out of here, out of the place he had put himself in.

Burly men hoisted up belts, bricks, vegetables and sharp cardboard pieces- today, who would the silver piece winner be?

Demyx had exhausted himself from running and evading for the last hours and hours of which he couldn't count. The colorful fabric now torn and wrecked, his metal accessories (they weren't even gold) weighing down his neck, arms and legs. He screamed, screamed "GET AWAY FROM ME!" over and over, running endlessly around the circular cage they've built in the middle of the town square.

His arms were bleeding and his face that was once flawless had now a long red line trailing from his jaw to his right cheek. Demyx was dying, dying and dying.

And he just wishes someone would save him.

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A/N: Next chapter is the real chapter one, so the story will actually progress- this is what I call introduction. Thanks to all those who have read and if you have any comments, please do review :)


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